


The Hearts of Some are not Easily Won

by fractionallyfoxtrot



Series: Hearts Over Fitton [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: F/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/pseuds/fractionallyfoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Experience, and a few horribly unforeseen missteps, has taught Herc that many of the things he'd usually give to a woman as a gift were <em>not</em> acceptable things to give to Carolyn Knapp-Shappey. Never one to shy away from a challenge, Herc sets out to find Carolyn a Valentine's Day gift she'll actually like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hearts of Some are not Easily Won

Flowers were out.

Herc knew from experience that flowers were not an acceptable gift for Carolyn Knapp-Shappey. They required a vase, water, care; they were decapitated decaying organisms designed to elicit an emotional response disguised as a gift, Carolyn’s words obviously, not his. Chocolates were also out, no matter how rich they were or how far away they were from, along with jewelry and tickets to shows Carolyn actually wanted to see.

God forbid she acknowledge that he knew her well enough to know what she liked.

Herc knew that acceptable gifts for Carolyn fell well outside what would be considered the norm for most people. This was clearly evident by the matted and terrifying stuffed sheep residing in his study, a room he willingly gave up using ever again when he saw how pleased she’d been with scaring him half out of his wits. If he wanted to give her something that would truly please her—and he did; for all the time they spent bickering, he was mercilessly fond of her—he would have to venture far, far off the beaten path.

He searched through a few of the boxes that had accompanied him from flat to flat, marriage to marriage, ultimately finding what he was looking for in a box labeled ‘Old house.’

Herc took the shin pads out to his car and headed to the airfield.

* * *

Valentine’s Day arrived on a Friday.

Herc got Carolyn to agree to go to dinner with him under the strict understanding that they occasionally went out to dinner on Fridays; this would be no different than usual and they were not, under any circumstances, going out to eat amongst dewy-eyed sops simply because it was the fourteenth of February. She didn’t need to know that he’d made reservations at a fine restaurant a short drive from Fitton or that he’d requested a more secluded table to minimize their exposure to aforementioned dewy-eyed sops.

He arrived empty-handed as planned, forgoing a card or even his suit jacket as he got out of his car. He walked casually to the MJN portacabin and, finding it empty, headed towards one of the hangars where the small crowd and intermittent burst of laughter clearly indicated that something was going on.

Assorted members of the Fitton Airfield fire crew and a handful of engineers and mechanics stood in a half circle around the fire truck parked out on the tarmac; Herc could also pick out Carolyn, Martin, and Arthur as he moved closer. They were all watching Douglas, who stood on the rear bumper of the fire truck, shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, sweaty fringe sticking to his face as he struggled to reach all the way into the chrome compartment where hoses and other tools were usually kept. He stretched a little too far and his foot slipped, causing Douglas to curse while the onlookers cheered.

“That’s a new one,” Dave laughed. “Where does that one fall on the list?” he asked, glancing at George to his left.

“Twenty pounds,” George answered, consulting the list.

“Heard that, Douglas?” Dave called. “Another twenty pounds! Keep it up and I might actually be able to afford all the parts that need replacing on your plane.”

Martin frowned automatically. “It’s not his plane,” he complained from his position on the edge of the group.

“It’s Mum’s!” Arthur chipped in helpfully.

“That’s right, dear heart,” Carolyn grinned. She was clearly enjoying herself; she even smiled at Herc when he stepped up beside her. “It _is_ my plane and I cannot wait to see it get the full Douglas Richardson hand wash and wax.”

Douglas muttered under his breath as he searched for and found a foothold, hoisting himself up into the compartment. He looked back at the rest of his company, eyes sharpening momentarily when he spotted Herc, then put his head down and carried on his work.

“What’s all this?” Herc asked, inclining his head toward Carolyn.

To his surprise, Carolyn took him by the arm, pulling him closer so she could explain.

“Douglas apparently lost a big pub bet,” she said, her tone secretive but her volume loud, ensuring that Douglas heard every word. “With the whole airfield from the looks of things. He owes the fire crew one hand washed truck, he owes me one hand washed plane, and for every curse word he utters during the process he owes the engineers that much more money. It’s like Christmas,” she said, bits of eerily Arthur-reminiscent joy leaking into her sharky grin.

“Indeed,” Herc agreed.

Up on the truck, Douglas was realizing that he left the rest of his supplies on the ground. Herc felt a flash of guilt as he watched Douglas climb ungracefully off the fire truck but the feeling was assuaged by the voluntary press of Carolyn at his side.

“Hercules!” Herc felt the heavy hand of Axel, the fire crew chief, clap solidly on his back before he saw the man come into view. “Glad you could make it,” he smiled.

“‘Herc,’ please,” Herc reminded him, raising a knowing brow. “Unless you’d like me to call you ‘Achilles.’”

Axel frowned, shaking his head. “Point taken, Herc.”

Carolyn pulled away from Herc a little so she could see both men. “How do you two know each other?” she asked.

Axel grinned, threw an arm around Herc’s shoulders, and struck a dramatic pose.

“Herc and I are Skittles champions of the Hose and Hydrant,” he declared, slapping Herc on the chest. Herc shrugged at Carolyn’s interrogative look while Axel continued his explanation. “Terry bowed out of the tournament at the last minute, making the numbers uneven and leaving me without a teammate. But luckily Herc here took up our constant invitation to come down to the pub and he and I swept the whole thing! Blew right through Douglas and Mickey, who we all know he got temporarily hired as a ringer,” he said loudly, emphasizing the last word for Douglas’ benefit.

There was no reaction from Douglas, who stood atop the fire truck again, bucket in hand, contemplating how to best wash the ladder.

“It was Herc’s idea to up the ante in the last round,” Axel went on, leaning towards Carolyn as he pointed at Herc. “He convinced all of us to pool our resources and go in on a very big bet. It was risky,” he admitted, “but it paid off and now we all get to reap the rewards.”

Axel laughed, loud and hearty, as he clapped Herc on the back again. Herc absently waved him off as he went to supervise Douglas’ efforts, his attention focused on Carolyn and the undiscernible expression on her face. She looked to Douglas, arguing with Axel over the shine of the truck’s chrome, unintentionally providing the engineers with another curse word, then back to Herc.

“You did this?” she asked, her tone even but curious.

Her expression was still unreadable but Herc took the lack of impatience or disdain that she usually spoke to him with as a positive sign. He shrugged noncommittally.

“I may have had a hand in the final wager… and the game winning throw,” he added with a smile, noting the minute curl of Carolyn’s lips. He took her lightly by the waist and she came willingly, pressing up to his side again. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Carolyn.”

He dipped his head down to kiss her and Carolyn surprised him again.

What Herc had intended to be a quick peck lingered as a gentle, practiced play of lips, the hand Carolyn touched to his face subtly suggesting that he not pull away too soon. Her other hand found a place on his chest as she stepped into his space, an invitation to wrap his arms around her and draw her close that Herc happily accepted. They idled in the embrace until Carolyn pulled back and smiled, the expression soft and rare and worth every hour Herc had spent as a skittle in the eccentric little pub.

She looked genuinely pleased.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hercules,” she acknowledged, tucking her head against his chest as they watched Douglas sulk on his hands and knees, scrubbing the fire truck’s rims.


End file.
